


Past

by PGT



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Comfort, Comfort Food, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Homesickness, Nostalgia, Self-Worth Issues, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PGT/pseuds/PGT
Summary: Dalinar makes sure his new guard is eating properly.
Relationships: Dalinar Kholin&Szeth-son-son-Vallano
Kudos: 27





	Past

“Sit,” Dalinar commanded, though his voice was threaded with fatigue.   
Szeth didn’t think it was a productive task, but he obeyed anyway. There was always a reason for Dalinar’s orders, and it was not Szeth’s place to question them. So he sat at the long table within the war room.  
It had been a slow day in terms of guardianship. For most of it, Dalinar had attendance with a number of scribes issuing letters throughout Roshar. Szeth was no fool to underestimate a scribe’s ability to assassinate a powerful man, but after several months of hawk-eyed diligence he’d come to understand they were not to be concerned with. Otherwise, Dalinar had had conference with his niece, and with the men of Bridge Four. Both groups he was wary of, but not because of any risk to Dalinar. He stood straight with his hand on his hilt, and hoped he did a good job of appearing unsubdued.  
Still, he had been standing the whole time. Sitting in the simple wooden chair was a relief he hadn’t thought to consider, and though he knew that was not the purpose of the order, he was silently grateful for it. Not that he deserved such respite, of course.   
Dalinar did not sit, though as he had been sitting for the better part of the day, stretching his legs as he paced must have been equally as pleasant for him as sitting was for Szeth. He stepped in an oblong path, arms crossed over his chest, one holding his chin. His grizzled face was adorned with a thoughtful expression, eyes cast to the floor.   
When he finally looked at Szeth, the Shin man felt deeply out of place. It was harder for him to sit in wait than it was to attend to tasks, whether due to the thoughts that came to him or the simple inability to not do something. For years, he had been a vessel performing acts and chores. With the Blackthorn’s piercing gaze on him, inactive and resting, he felt as if he was being disobedient.  
“When was the last time you slept?” Dalinar asked, finally. It was not what Szeth expected to hear. The weight of Dalinar’s gaze had him anticipating an arduous mission which would once more decorate his arms with blood and gore.  
“Slept?” he repeated back, stupefied. “Last highstorm, I suppose.”  
He thought for a moment, then nodded. It was true. It had been several days.   
Dalinar’s eyes widened, and his pacing stuttered. “Several days? What about meals-- Storms you really don’t do anything unless I tell you to, do you?”  
He felt, suddenly, very young. He was reminded of a past so far gone that it was almost someone else’s memory, a child being scolded for the very first time. This was not the scolding of a master and his Truthless slave, but something he had not felt for a very long time.  
“This can be changed, if it doesn’t please you--”  
“No-- well, yes, you need to eat regularly, and sleep. I should have noticed sooner.” Dalinar scratched the back of his head, then made his way to the door, opening it to reveal the two guards stationed beside it. He spoke to one-- too far for Szeth to make out, and the soldier saluted before darting down the halls.   
Dalinar returned, eyeing Szeth once more. Standing, he was practically twice Szeth’s height. He had to strain to look up at him.  
“From now on, you eat meals offset with the guard shifts. It won’t interfere with my protection. You’ll sleep as your body needs, regardless of the time. We are not so under armed that you need watch me every moment of the day.”  
Szeth nodded. “As you wish.” He did not voice that this was more meals than the Blackthorn himself usually managed to get in a day, or that he could keep himself from fatigue with Stormlight. It was not his place to refute orders.  
Dalinar left him seated, and busied himself amongst the scattered papers littering the table. Szeth watched, and itched to stand in position behind Dalinar, protecting his blind spot; even if there was only one entrance to the room.   
When the guard returned, he returned with a tray of food; two distinct meals. One far more lavish than the other, Szeth was shocked to watch the guard set it before him, and not Dalinar.  
Dalinar often ate a soldier’s rations; something of habit despite his political standing. Before him was the bland soulcast curry a soldier might expect after a long march. Before Szeth, however, lay a far more expensive meal of imported meats and roasted fruits. He recognized them, of course, though not so ornately plated. He hadn’t eaten chicken or apples in a very long time. Shin goods, imported and usually eaten on special occasions.   
He looked at Dalinar in shock. The general took a spoonful of curry without noting Szeth’s awe.  
“I can’t eat this,” Szeth murmured. It had been so long since he’d eaten something from his homelands. He’d been banished so long ago, and no slave would be fed something so expensive. And yet, a plate which surely cost an emerald broam to prepare was set before him.   
Dalinar looked up from his papers, a brow raised. “I assumed you would prefer your own cuisine, was I wrong?”  
The plump meat, peppered with spices and oozing juices, taunted him. He very much preferred his own cuisine to the gamey chull meat the Alethi were so fond of. Even on a bed of tallew grain, it looked decadent.   
He was not Truthless, though. Would it be wrong to eat this? As wrong, if not worse, than stepping on stone, or killing what must have amounted to hundreds of men. He wanted to. But it was hard to make himself do it.  
“I...” He bit his lip, still dazedly admiring the meal laid out before him. “If you ordered me to, I could.”  
It was stupid. Stupid enough to make his cheeks warm. And yet, it made sense to him. It was not easy to do anything on his own. He felt guilty, somehow, considering whether or not he deserved to eat this. He was not bound to anyone anymore, and yet he did not know how to live of his own volition. It was easier, somehow, to let Dalinar decide whether or not he deserved to eat this.  
“I’ll order you to eat, but I don’t care whether you eat that, or something else. Should I have you fetched something else?”  
It was enough. Szeth felt himself smile, and shook his head softly. He took up his fork almost reverently, piercing the soft white flesh, causing it to seep more flavor against the tallew beneath it. “Thank you,” He whispered, lifting a small chunk to his tongue.  
It was decadent. He’d forgotten what real food tasted like. It wasn’t just the pepperiness of the chicken, the sweet tartness of the apple. It was the fragrance of grass, true grass that did not shy away. The sound of it rustling beneath his feet as wind blew blades into one another. The sound of his own language, of children laughing and fires crackling and horses whinnying, chickens clucking.  
Home.  
Szeth couldn’t help the tears that welled in his eyes. It was overwhelming, too many memories and feelings all at once. He set down his fork and wiped his eyes with the backs of his fists. As he returned to the meal with dry eyes, he saw Dalinar watching him curiously.  
He felt he owed the man an explanation. “It has been a very long time,” was all he could manage.  
He schooled his expression for the rest of the meal, though his resolute demeanor as Dalinar’s guardian faltered. He was not vigilant against attack, for the first time in months. His shoulders laxed, his features softened. He cleaned his plate of all but the bones of the chicken and the seeds of the roasted apple.  
Dalinar seemed to have trouble tearing his eyes off the Shin man. It was fascinating to see him in this light; something as simple as a meal bringing him to tears when Dalinar himself had seen Szeth ignore injuries that might bring the bravest of soldiers to fainting. It made him briefly think of Evi, who’s foreign customs had brought her such joy so far away from her home. It was something he would never understand, having never been cast away from his own culture. He tried to think of a meal that might bring him to tears-- none came to mind. There was the peppered pork the day he met Evi, but it was hardly the outstanding memory of the night. He did not eat pork and think of her. Though, perhaps that was thanks to the Old Magics.   
He felt as if he were intruding on something deeply personal, to see the assassin so vulnerable. How many people had seen the Kingkiller cry? He tried to focus on the papers laid out before him, but how could he, when something unthinkable sat just across the table?  
When Szeth finished the last bite of his meal, he lay his utensils down again, and folded his hands in his lap. He seemed so much younger after shedding tears. At a glance, Dalinar might not even recognize him as the notorious Assassin in White.   
“I’ll have Shin dishes acquired for you regularly,” Dalinar said. He phrased it as a statement, rather than an offer. He felt that that would be easier for the man to bear. Szeth bowed his head. His smile was soft, but true.  
“As you wish.”


End file.
